


Away Game Blues

by Lobo_Loca



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Loneliness, M/M, Trials of Being in a Relationship with a Professional Hockey Player
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobo_Loca/pseuds/Lobo_Loca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric gets lonely while Jack's out of town for a string of away games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Away Game Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably be doing the homework and project stuff I have to do, but I'm maudlin tonight so here's a snippet of lonely!Bitty.
> 
> A big thank you to wittylittleknitter for fixing my French.

Eric surveyed the kitchen, taking in spotless granite countertops, the gleaming chrome and steel of the ovens, refrigerator, and freezer. The tile floors nearly sparkled and there wasn’t a single speck of dust anywhere to be found, not even behind the heaviest of appliances. The rest of the apartment—bathroom, living room, office, guestroom, and master bed and bath—were in similar states of cleanliness. Which wasn’t really that surprising since Eric had run out of butter by six and hadn’t felt like going to the store to get more.

Glancing at the clock, Eric sighed and stripped off his gloves.

Quarter ‘til four was definitely time for bed when Shitty, Lardo, and some of the Falconer wives would be descending on his apartment before noon tomorrow for the pregame.

Miss Mitts finally crept out from wherever she’d been hiding and twined between Eric’s legs, rubbing her calico fur against his calves in a bid for cuddles. He scooped her up with one arm and cradled her against his chest. He tucked the cleaning supplies away on the rack above the washer and dryer and quietly pulling the doors to the nook closed.

Turning off lights as he goes, Eric padded to the master bedroom, and let Miss Mitts down as he opens the door. She walked to the bed, jumping up nimbly and heading unerringly for the pillow on Jack’s side. She curled up neatly and watched Eric as he changed into fuzzy maple leaf sleep pants and one of Jack’s shirts. The shirt was much too big, easily falling past mid-thigh and the sleeves falling over his fingers.

He looked at the bed for a long moment before shooing Miss Mitts from Jack’s pillow and tucking his phone inside the pillowcase. Eric stripped off the comforter, bundling it under one arm and stuffing Jack’s pillow under the other before he trudged through the dark apartment to the long blue couch. He tossed the pillow towards the far arm of the couch and shook out the comforter. Miss Mitts leapt deftly on to Jack’s pillow as Eric climbed in under the comforter. He huffed, picking her up and tucking her against his chest as he laid back. She kneaded at his chest for a few moments before she settled, purring like an out of tune engine.

Eric closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

The clock in the kitchen ticked away. Eric counted the minutes. Three. Five. Ten. Fifteen. At twenty, he sighed and rooted his phone out of the pillowcase, squinting at the brightness of the lock screen in the darkness. A few swipes brought up his voicemail, and one more played the only saved message.

Jack’s voice drifted out of the speakers. “Hey, babe. I’m gonna assume you spent too long on Twitter and checking for updates on my flight and then forgot to charge your phone. But on the off chance that’s not what happened, call me back when you get this. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know we landed in Tampa. Some of the boys found the cookies you packed and threatened to rat us out to the team nutritionist if I didn’t share. I hope you’ll be able to catch the game tomorrow. I think there are three hours between the end of the game and when we board the flight for Dallas in case you wanted to talk. I know how much you hate the first away game of the season, and it doesn’t help that we’ve got three away games back to back. _Je t’aime._ _Tu me manque._ I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

The message ended and Eric hovered his finger over the screen, debating the merits of replaying the message again. It probably wouldn’t help though. Hearing Jack say he missed Eric just made Eric lonelier.

Eric wasn’t sure why it was hitting him so hard this year. It wasn’t like Jack hadn’t had away games before since they started dating four years ago. Jack was out now, sure, but that should’ve been reassuring if anything. The whole world knew Jack Zimmermann had a boyfriend after Jack came out, kissing Eric right there on the ice while holding the Stanley cup before asking Eric to move in with him.

Eric had a copy of the Sports Illustrated article framed and hung up on the wall, along with the picture that had Bob just about in tears in the background behind Jack, Eric, and the Stanley cup.

Maybe this year was harder because Eric had gotten used to waking up next to Jack during the offseason, spending hours tangled together on weekend mornings and Eric grumbling on weekdays when Jack woke up at an ungodly hour for his morning run.

Sighing, Eric locked his phone and stuffed it back in the pillowcase. He shifted as much as he could to get comfortable without disturbing Miss Mitts, and tried to get some sleep.

He dreamed of his sophomore year at Samwell with Jack just across the hall, early morning checking practice and morning runs with their heads bent together, cloudy breath intermingling in the cold.


End file.
